I have a friend I met a few years before my son was born. A true warrior and a sunshine, imagine the dynamite combo. She has a third grader who is just the kind of boy I want my son to be, funny, gentle, sensitive and happy. She has raised him mostly by herself, while going to graduate school and working and being a vibrant present friend to everyone around her. Oh and this girl knows how to have fun!
As soon as I met her I thought to my self.. I want to be this kind of mama! Strong, proud, productive, positive and empathetic. The way she raised her son just made me want to be cared for by her! Her outside appearance is also as radius as her inside beauty, the kind of beauty that just shines through a smile, contagious, honest, unapologetic. Or so I thought.
One hot sunny afternoon we meet at a friend's house to soak in her pool. Three women, one mama. I hadn't yet seen a young body changed by birth, and certainly I had no idea what mine could look like one day. As my warrior sunshine friend took off her clothes she soon apologized for the stretchmarks on her stomach and for the loose skin she had left on a once tonic perfect body. I was surprised, first to see that she had imperfections (or so what I once had thought of as being "imperfect") and then by the fact that here she was apologizing for something that she was, something that she had gained in the process of becoming the amazing mama I so aspired to be one day.
Forward to 2 years later, there I am delivering a 9.2lb baby boy who has just taken my body on a 0-360 revolution. I never had a slim figure (not since I hit puberty, anyway) and I was ready to embrace motherhood, however it manifested to me. In theory, in principle... I had enough of a feminist backbone to accept, embrace, own who I was becoming... in theory, in principle...
Around 8 months into my pregnancy my perfect bump and smooth skin began to crack. Sunshine rays started to come out of my belly button and spreading to my belly. I looked like I had a sun forming, smacked in the middle of my bump. I started applying anti-stretch mark lotion even more ferociously than before and I started to wonder... would I look like her? and would I apologize for it? what else did I have to come to grip with?
All along my husband kept down playing my concerns, "so what? why do YOU care? isn't this what feminism is against?You look beautiful, just own it!". I just shook my head and protested that he didn't get it, and neither did I.
Motherhood takes you for a spin. So many things change and so drastically and so rapidly that you have no time, rest, and intellect clarity to react to everything with the grace and love you were once capable of. Your breasts are sore, but that baby suckling looks so beautiful... your skin is loose and floppy but you can hold that baby on your hip like you were built around him, your hair is falling but when he curls it with his fingers it is excatly how it should be.
Then life goes on, your baby grows and you are no longer forgiven for looking like a mess, not by yourself not by the world around you. This time when my bump grew again and my stretchmarks began to design that sunshine around my belly button, my son traces them with his little finger, placing his toy car on them, like they are there for his wonder and entertainment. As I watch him do this I am overwhelmed with the sense of connection my body has to his. I am grateful for all that I have done to generate such beauty and I AM beautiful because of it. My beauty, once flat, expanded around me like rays of a sun and it is stronger and fuller then my mind was ever capable of understanding and it stretched beyond me.
My warrior sunshine friend YOU are beautiful and so am I.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Belly to Belly kiss
I need a place to funnel my thoughts that isn't my husband. Great listener, don't get me wrong, but just not as able to "like" my comments like 50 strangers can on FB. I need gratification inside and outside my intimate family sphere. is it bad? Guess if you are reading this then you are up for some escapism to.
My second pregnancy, the one my body is currently hosting, was 100% intended. In love with our little guy and missing the early months (believe that!) we just could not wait to see how much more love we could grow in our hearts. That ... AND a seriously crazy dose of love hormone just spiraling around, the kind that makes you forget about stuff like: recovering from birth, sleepless nights, potty training while nursing, and do I need to go on?
So after the we-have-to-get-pregnant-this-second! (which turned out to be as quick as I wanted it to be) came the realization that we were all in it for the long run and what that meant to me more then anything... my son was not going to be the one and only guy I get to spend each and everyday playing with. Months of nausea and exhaustion followed, as they often do.
While pregnant with my first, I welcomed every single annoying sign of creation, because it meant he/she was there sticking to the plan. I welcomed the nausea like a sign of "morning mom!" form a smiley unknown child of mine. I welcomed the frequent night trips to the bathroom like time for companionship as he/she was getting up with me and walked with me alone in the dark... I cheered at food cravings and food annoyances because it meant that this little inhabitant had his/her own mind about stuff and I was learning to go along with it. I welcome it all. especially since it was an easy pregnancy and I could take all the TLC I wanted from my hubby, from my community and from myself.
A week into the second pregnancy I KNEW I was expecting, and not just because I was baby-crazy but because I could smell a squirrel peeing in the back yard. I knew it even though the test came negative for 2 weeks. I was sick every morning and all day for weeks, I could not sit in the passenger seat or else I would barf, eggs made my stomach turn and I just could not keep my self together. I did not welcome ANY of that. Instead I became overtaken by a sense of defeat and guilt. Was I not able to be fully present for my son? Was this nausea preventing me from making delicious nutritious food for us (because Trader Joe's frozen food became our only option)? Was I already taking attention and dedication away form my little guy? And what about the baby#2? How was I supposed to play music to the belly, talk to the baby, go to pre-natal yoga twice a week and go to the pool and enjoy us floating together like I did with my son?
At 7 weeks we got hit by a car, our car was totaled but my son was OK. My sister-law called to make sure we were all OK and suggested I go to the ER to check on the baby's heart beat. In shock I replied that clearly my baby was fine, sure he was shaken by the event and sore but his heart was beating, he was eating a cookie on my lap. Well... not that baby, she said.. they OTHER one! Oh... right... I my mama bear mod, protecting my cub by ensuring he was eating enough chocolate before going to bed because we were just so greatful he didn't get seriously hurt... I had totally forgotten... This is sad, I though...
Time passed by and as I grew I allowed myself to connect a little more with baby bean, who went from baby #2 to baby bean... big step as a mama friend of mine pointed out that baby #2 was a little inappropriate, detached perhaps.. She was right. But I felt detached, my language reflected that.
As soon as I started showing, my son was much quicker then me at connecting to the baby. He started puffing up his tummy and pointing at mine saying "Baby?!". It became our game. I would massage the belly with the anti-stretch mark lotion and he would massage his or mine. My hubby would put his hands on my tummy to feel the kicks and he would join in not sure what we were all waiting for.
Then yesterday morning...it clicked! I connected! 23 weeks pregnant and I finally fully marvelously connected to my baby bean.
As my son woke up in the morning, I went to pick him up from his bed and instead I decided to crawl into his crib with him, to cuddle in his bed a little bit. This is part of the indulgence of spending extra quality time him and I alone before the sibling comes. He was happy to see me there, he lifted my pijama top up to uncover the belly bump and zipped down his pijama and laid there skin to skin, belly against belly whispering "baby" and blowing kisses. Is there ANYTHING sweeter than this?! I fell in love all over again, this time not for my son but for my CHILDREN! My little amazing sweet man had just showed me that in fact we were ALL indulging in cuddles and alone time that morning, all three of us.
I realized that I had been feeling guilty not just towards my son for not having him as my one and only but also to the unborn baby for not giving him/her the love and attention I dedicated to my first pregnancy. Yesterday morning I forgave my self and I went on realizing that YES I have been approaching this pregnancy differently and YES I have been less attentive to his/her presence but that was OK because I was giving him/her things that I was NEVER able to offer my first born: A BROTHER!
And beyond that! Differently from my first pregnancy I now know the extend to which I can love a newborn, I know how essential and empowering and time limited labor is, I know how much our hearts can grow, I know what an amazing, fun, empathetic, smart, supportive, feminist and all around awesome daddy they have and I know that I GOT this!
Thank you Tristan for showing me all this in a belly to belly kiss yesterday morning!
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